The Look
by Deonanna
Summary: Éowyn saw the look that Gríma gave her that day. …It was a look that she would never, ever forget. * My FIRST FanFic! Please R&R! *
1. The Look

Éowyn saw the look that Gríma gave her that day. …It was a look that she would **never** be able to forget.

For it was the same day that Théodred was saved by his cousin, Éomer, and the accusation that Éomer himself, laid upon Gríma in the Great Hall of Rohan, where Théodred's father, Théoden (who was also Éowyn and Éomer's beloved Uncle), was slowly succumbing to the cruel and torturous decay of his own being, by none other than the wicked and evil white wizard, Saruman.

However, this was **far**from just a typical look, as one would look up at the sky, hoping for the slightest beam of ray from the sun after a cold, cloudy day of rain, thunder, and lightening. A simple look one would give to an inanimate object they were about to pick up or move. A look one would give another person, about to give a friendly, perhaps even comical, response to a simple, typical question.

The look Gríma gave Éowyn at that very moment, although she fought with _all her might_ **not **to show it on her face [the last thing she **ever **wanted to give Gríma was **any sort **of pleasurable, self-satisfaction], it still **terrified **her on the inside. She had a small suspicion that she was being watched by the King's Lord Counselor, but _never_, until he, Gríma, immediately darted his _**piercing blue eyes**_ right on Éowyn and locked his eyes with hers, did she realize that _**he truly was watching her**_.

While the moment only lasted for a few seconds, it felt like hours to her. For his look, his gaze, was like that of no other. It was one that could easily haunt one, deep in their sleep, and out of nowhere, creep up on them during the most peaceful and blissful of dreams during a perfect night's slumber.

Without the immediate knowledge of Éowyn, the orders of Gríma Wormtongue were given.

Éomer would **never **forget those orders, nor that day. Gríma's words, voice, and the orders he spoke of were still as clear in his mind as a crystal clear creek, created by the melting snow of winter's end and the swift arrival of spring…

"_You see much, Éomer, son of Eomund. …__**Too much**__. You are __**banished **__forthwith from the Kingdom of Rohan. …__**Under pain of death**_".

Éomer angrily and assertively shouted at Gríma and reminded him that he, Gríma, had **no authority**, and his orders meant _nothing_.

It was then that Éomer, was shocked when Gríma reached for a document under his jet black fur-lined cloak, and told him,

"Oh, this order doesn't come from me, it comes from the King". Gríma shook the document to straighten it out so Éomer could see it for himself, with his own eyes.

As much as Gríma would have _**loved **_for the order to have come from himself, this was still good enough for him. Regardless of who gave or signed the order, _Éomer would soon be gone_.

Gríma continued with a more upbeat and almost pleasured tone in his voice, "He signed it this morning", and gave Éomer a glare and an evil smirk that sent _immediate _fright into him, as he was taken away by the guards who protected and watched over Rohan's Great Hall.

But Éomer wasn't afraid for himself, he was afraid for Éowyn. He knew Gríma was after her. She was, after all, the _**treasure**_. It was she who Gríma was **watching **for _far too long_. It was _her steps _who Gríma was **haunting**.

After coming to the _**horrifying **_realization that she, Éowyn, was Gríma's '_**treasure**_' [_a look of disgust and horror covered her face and chills were sent through her entire body whenever she thought of him referring to her in that word and in his deceptive, manipulative tone_], she wanted nothing more to do with him, nor the conversation between Éomer and Gríma.

Éowyn simply couldn't take it, and she left. As she walked out and the massive doors that lead to the Great Hall closed behind her, she stood just outside the doors of the Great Hall of Rohan, overlooking what was once a happy, peaceful, joyful land. She took a few moments to take in the gentle wind that spread across the land that day. She closed her eyes and felt her hair being tasseled by the wind, and simply enjoyed the feeling of a moment of _refreshment, peace, and inner bliss_, which was brought on simply by nature.

With her eyes still closed, she felt a bit of warmth on her skin from the shining sun above, and _a tiny smile emerged on her face_, as took in a deep, cleansing breath to inhale to the beauty that was still left of her kingdom. Of course, much had changed since Saruman had taken hold of King Théoden and Gríma had made it _**his own personal mission **_to try as hard as he could to keep her in his sights at all times, but something about being outside, _being at one with __**nature**__, could make __**all **__her worries and moments of despair __disappear__. …Even though those moments were only temporary_.

As she exhaled and opened her eyes, she spotted, out of the corner of her eye, her brother Éomer and his fellow fighting men of Rohan who were loyal to him. She _knew _something was going on, but **what it was**, she did not know. Confused, worried, and curious, she _rushed _down the stone steps that lead to the Great Hall, and ran towards the stables where the horses of the fighting men of Rohan were kept.

She frantically searched for Éomer, and when she found him, she bombarded him with questions.

"Why are you preparing to leave? Where are you going? …Have Uruks been spotted in the near lands?"

Éomer let out an unusual sigh, and _looked down_.

"What's going on, where are you going, why won't you answer me?!", she asked in a frantic and obviously worried tone.

He lead his sister to a corner where there was a little more privacy from the other Rohan fighters. He looked around carefully before he spoke, and took a moment to muster up the courage to tell his dear sister the truth and answer her questions.

…"_I've been banished from Rohan_. I must leave, and **quickly**", he replied.

The curious look that had been on Éowyn's face **immediately **turned to a look of fright and _absolute horror_.

"But…that's _impossible_! The King, **our Uncle**! He has always been like a **Father **to us! He would _never _do this!" Éowyn paused for a brief moment and quickly gathered her thoughts.

"_Unless_…", she softly said under her breath, and her eyes instantly grew wide with suspicion and worry. …"_No…__**No**_!", she shouted, and without thinking, pushed Éomer away and darted for the entrance to the stables.

She quickly ran out of the stables to get a clear view of the steps that lead up to the Great Hall. Standing there, staring right at her with his unmistakable piercing blue eyes, was **Gríma**. He had a smirk on his face, although she was standing too far away from him to see it. She _immediately _knew that this order was not truly that of their Uncle. _She locked eyes with Gríma for a moment as she quickly put the pieces of this puzzle of madness together_, and knew that it was he, _Gríma_, not their beloved Uncle, who was _**truly **_responsible for this order.

Horrified by the realization that she had come to, she ran back into the stables to Éomer.

"You _**can not **_leave!", she said in a desperate, begging tone to her brother.

He knelt down and held her hands in his, and looked up at her. "I have to leave, Éowyn. You must understand that I have _no choices, no options_. I've been banned. I must go, and for this, I am so sorry, my dear sister".

Éowyn was in both shock and disbelief. She knew Gríma was a man of ill intentions, but _this _was an action even she didn't think he was capable of being so cruel of casting upon her, her family, and the people of Rohan.

"Then _**I'm**_ coming with you!", she said in a frightened and assertive tone, and turned to find a horse she could ride on, but she immediately felt _someone _pull her back. She turned around and to her relief, it was Éomer, **not **Gríma.

"Oh, Éowyn. You must stay. This order was cast upon me, _not you_. You must stay and _you must be __**strong**_. You must stay and look after our dear Uncle, our Cousin, and our kingdom. You're the only one left in our family who's not on the brink of death, whom has a _pure heart _that isn't poisoned by Saruman. _**Without you**_, Rohan will fall. And who knows what will become of the King? Our Uncle?".

Éowyn suddenly had a listless, lifeless look in her eyes. She _knew_ her brother was right, but his words provided her with little comfort. For she was wasn't just scared, worried, nor even afraid now. …She was _absolutely __**terrified**_.

"You can't leave me! Not here, not alone like this! _What about __him_? _What about __**Gríma**_?!", she said in a whisper-like tone that was wrapped with fear, worry, and absolute horror inside it. The look of _complete _fear on her face mirrored her tone **exactly**.

"You know how to defend yourself, Éowyn. _He doesn't know this_!", Éomer said in an also whisper-like response.

Éowyn's jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide in both shock and fear.

She whispered to her brother in response, "You think a simple _blade _will be enough to protect me against _**him**_?! Who only knows what he's capable of, along with that Wizard's power!".

Éomer sighed, and looked at his sister. "You **must **believe in yourself, Éowyn. You must be strong. _You must fight for the greater good_, and hold true to yourself. Stay close to Théoden. He is still himself, deep inside. Though his mind is confused, in his heart, he knows who you are, and he loves you. You must stay close to him, closer than even Gríma would."

A tear ran down her ever so innocent face as she watched her brother finish placing the last piece of armor on his head. She took a step back as she watched Éomer mount his horse.

He bent down and whispered to Éowyn, "_I'll figure something out. It will take time, but I __**promise**__, this will not be the last time we see one another. I will be back in time, Éow_--"

Éomer's final words to his sister were quickly interrupted and cut short.

"I am quite sorry to intrude, but I have given you the King's orders. _Unless you wish to die_, I suggest that you leave. _And you should leave __**now**_."

To her horror, she knew who spoke those demanding orders, covered by an obviously false sense of concern. Before she could even look up at her brother to say goodbye, Éowyn clenched her eyes shut and fought back the tears that had been building up inside. She _refused _to let Gríma see her show any signs of inner, emotional weakness.

"As you wish", Éomer said to Gríma, in an angry and resentful tone.

He turned to his followers who were also on horseback, armored, and ready to leave Rohan, who were awaiting instruction from Éomer.

"We ride North!", he shouted, and the horses quickly lead them out of the stables.

He couldn't bring himself to look back at his sister. As strong of a man Éomer was, _his heart felt more weak than ever_. He feared for his kingdom. He feared for what would become of Rohan. He wondered what would become of his Cousin, the Prince of Rohan, and his Uncle, the King. But most of all, he feared for his sister. He, too, knew how terrified she was of the King's Lord Counselor. But to let her accompany him on a journey where he didn't even know it would lead nor end…he just could not do. As much as it _**sickened **_him to know that Gríma was now free to observe Éowyn's every action, to follow and haunt her every step…He knew he had no choice. He didn't even know what would become of his own being and what his own fate would be. To put his beloved younger sister in that same position, he just could not bring himself to do so.

Éowyn stood as still as statue as she watched her brother and his men ride off. She couldn't believe what was happening to her world.

Her dear Uncle, the King of Rohan, who was practically like a Father to her after the passing of her own biological Father, was poisoned by Saruman, and was so very weak. She feared he would soon be gone, too.

She feared for what would become of Théodred. _She __**saw **__his wounds_. As much as she hoped for a miracle, as much as she hoped that _somehow_, her cousin, who was more like a brother to her, would be spared and survive such a terrible encounter with the Uruks, in reality, she knew his chances of survival were growing dimmer with each passing moment. It would be a miracle if he were to even live to see the sun the following day.

She feared for her brother, Éomer. Why was it to the North that he chose to lead he and his men? Was he okay? Was Saruman secretly watching he and his men somehow? What if they were headed right into a trap, an ambush of Uruks? Yes, Éomer survived his last encounter with the hideously wretched creatures, but only to bring Théodred back with wounds that were sure to be the cause of why his young life was to very likely be cut so short, so early. _**All she could do**_ was pray that by the grace of all that is good, that Éomer was still safe, unharmed, and _alive_.

Putting those she loved before herself, as she always had, lastly, she feared for herself. Though she was not _truly _alone, she quickly began to feel like she was.

"Come, my lady. For it will be dark soon, and it is growing cold".

She felt Gríma place his hand on her shoulder_. As much as she wanted to draw a blade and destroy Gríma with all her might, she didn't do anything_. She didn't push him away. She didn't scream at him in hatred and anger. Instead, she turned around and faced him.

"Come, my lady. We should get you back to the Great Hall".

Gríma lifted his hand from Éowyn's shoulder and led her back to the place where it all began. Where the order for her brother to be sent away was given. _She felt __**his hand **__on her lower back_, leading her, back to the steps that lead to the Castle. Little did she know, Gríma had not a smile, but a smirk on his face, that was colder than even Winter's most harsh chill. Éowyn wouldn't speak of nor admit how she felt, but she didn't need to, _for Gríma __**knew it**_.

_**He knew what she feared**_. He knew how frightened she was now that her brother was **gone**. He had seen the way she and Éomer interacted and relied on one another for years. Éomer always watched over his sister, even in their younger years. That brought _great comfort _to Éowyn. Éomer had never been away from his sister for an extended period of time, and even when he did leave, she always knew when she should expect his return.

Now, she knew **nothing**. All she knew, was that Éomer, her rock for so many years, was gone. And with that reality hitting her like a swarm of Elfish arrows aimed precisely towards her chest, _she felt what she feared so deeply. __**Being alone**__; __**Loneliness**__._

While she had a skill that allowed her to protect herself, she never needed to use it, as Éomer was always there for her, and she knew he would always protect her. This, Gríma also knew, as he saw her on the rare occasions where she would wield her blade and practice her skill, though it was never for an extended period of time. The _one thing _she thought she could _**protect herself **_with, Gríma was already well aware of, and she had no idea that he knew, and that he had known for a long time. For he also carried a sword, and he knew how to wield and use it to its very best defense. Should Éowyn ever even try to draw her blade _in defense against an __**attack or assault by Gríma**_, _she didn't stand a chance_. He was bigger, older, wiser, smarter, and more skilled with a blade than she would _ever _be.

The guards opened the doors to the Great Hall, and Gríma lead Éowyn inside. When she heard the doors clash shut behind her, she could _**feel **_her heart sink into her stomach. As much as she had wished that this was all a horrible nightmare that she would soon awaken from, _it wasn't_. And that was made very clear when Gríma slowly turned her around, placed his left hand on her right shoulder, and _with his right hand, softly brushed her cheek_. As much as she tried to avoid eye contact with him, she could feel herself becoming almost listless, and finally allowed her eyes to slowly meet up to his. A false smile of concern came upon his face.

"I am sorry that your Uncle has forced your brother to leave you here, _**alone**_, my dear. But, you do know that he has only you and the people of Rohan at his best interest".

Éowyn didn't say even one word in response to Gríma. She didn't look away from his piercing gaze. She felt as if she couldn't even move. All she knew, was that her world was changing, and in the _**worst **_possible ways.

"Come, my dear. Let me lead you to your rooms, as I'm sure you'd like to rest before the servants announce the call for dinner".

He gave her one last soft caress on her cheek, and slowly turned her away from him. _With his hand once again on her lower back_, he lead her down the corridors to _where her one place of privacy and solitude was_. It was if she didn't even remember the way to her own rooms. By this time, the sun had set, and darkness filled the castle and all its corridors, with the exception of the flickering flames of the candles that lined the tall, stone walls. Gríma looked down upon _his __**treasured **__Éowyn, standing __**right in front of him**_. _While he was __**so very tempted to grab her and embrace his beloved**__, he had to resist_. …For now, at least. His time would come_. He knew this_. And he knew it _**wouldn't **_be long…

It wasn't until the large wooden door, lined and decorated with metal embellishments made a cracking sound as it opened, did Éowyn come back to reality. She softly wiped a tear from her cheek, and went to enter her room. She could both _**hear and feel Gríma following behind her**_, and entering her room right behind her. She froze; Her eyes grew wide with **intense **fear of the unknown. _**Never **_had she ever allowed Gríma to enter her room. Nor had he even been this close to this wing of the castle. …At least to her knowledge. But little did she know, **he did**, and _he had been this close many_,_ many times_, both in recent nights and in the past. Gríma **had **to _**resist his strong urge to embrace and lay a passionate kiss on his beloved, his **__**treasured**__** Éowyn**_. He stared at her from behind. He _gazed _her from the crown of her beautiful, long, golden hair, to the very bottom of the beautiful, elegant gown that gently touched the floor. As much as _**knowing his intimidation weakened her**_, he did _feel a bit of guilt conjuring up inside him _for bringing pain upon the one he secretly loved, lusted for, and desired so dearly, he had to break the silence and let her be.

"May I bring you anything, my lady?", he asked in an unusually odd, concerned, almost _caring _tone.

She couldn't bring herself to _completely _turn around and look at him, but _somehow_, she managed to slowly face him over her shoulder.

"No…thank you", she replied, and slowly turned back to her original stance.

"Then I shall see you at dinner", he said, and slowly closed the door to her room, **but not** without _once again gazing her up and down_. He felt like he could admire her beauty for the rest of his life, but he had other things to tend to, and with that, he shut Éowyn's door.

Listless, mentally exhausted, confused, angered, frustrated…and _**alone**_. She turned away from her bed, but she was close enough so that when she fell back, as if she had been hit with an arrow, she landed on the soft furs that covered it. Tears began to stream from her beautiful eyes, _**but she didn't make a single sound**_. What was the point? Who would hear it? _**Gríma**_? _A servant_? Gríma was the last person she wanted to see, as she had finally ridden herself of him, even if for only an hour at the most, until the call that dinner was to be served would come. While she was _**always **_kind, polite, and appreciative of those whom served and catered to her and her family's needs, _**she knew no one would understand what was happening to her**_. Her world, as she knew it, was slowly _crumbling_.

Her dear cousin, Théodred, was _so very close _to death. She lay there wondering if he was even still **alive**. That thought only further deepened her pain. She couldn't bring herself to go to him. **Not now**. Her beloved Uncle, King Théoden, was under some sort of bizarre, life-draining spell which was cast upon him by Saruman. _**Gríma was the one making orders and practically running not only her home, the castle, but the entire Kingdom of Rohan**_, since Théoden was too weak to do anything. Even speaking was becoming a challenge for him. The few words he was able to mutter were nearly always directed towards Gríma, if anyone. Her brother, protector and best friend, Éomer, was banished from their own home, their Kingdom.

'_What is to become of __**me**_?' she silently asked herself in her own mind.

Tears continued to flow from her eyes, and she _quietly _cried herself into a light slumber…


	2. The Encounters

Éowyn awoke when she heard a gentle knock on the outside of her bedchambers door. She had fallen asleep, and it seemed as though as quickly as she did drift and succumb to the exhausting day that she had been through, she had awoken, feeling even more tired than she did about an hour or so ago. She was a bit startled by the sudden knock by person on the other side of her door, and she had to take a moment to gather her thoughts, but she had to do so hastily. She immediately patted her face dry with part of the skirt from her dress, should there have been any remaining tears on her face, she would not want anyone to have seen them. She quickly poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher that she had kept by her bedside and took a few sips, so that when she spoke, her voice wouldn't sound slightly raspy, as it very well could have been, since she had just woken up. She didn't want anyone to know that the events of the day and evening had tired and drained her so deeply.

Finally, assured that she could hide any signs of a light nap or the tears she had shed, she spoke in reply to whomever had knocked on her bedchambers door.

"Yes?", she spoke in a completely normal and casual tone, curious as to both who was at her door, and what they had come to her for. She was surprised she sounded as normal as she did sound. It almost pleased her that she was so skilled at hiding any signs of emotional weakness. Well, at least from the other side of a closed door.

"Dinner is being served, my Lady".

The voice on the other side of the door was, once again, unmistakable. It was _him_. It was Gríma.

Completely forgetting that he had been so close to her just hours before, she immediately cupped her mouth with her hand to hid any gasp that may have escaped. She didn't want him to hear or see any sign of fear in her that she felt towards him. She gently sat down on her bed, and took in a deep breath to try and calm her nerves that were on fire with pure adrenaline. …And fear.

"I…I will be down in a moment, Lord Counsellor. Thank you.".

She grit her teeth as she knew her voice had cracked a bit. Not from having recently awoken, but from the sheer fact that Gríma, while he wasn't in her room at this moment, was still only inches away from her. She knew he had to have heard the tone in which she replied to him, and he would very likely ask questions regarding it. As much as she hoped she would simply leave and return to the Great Hall, that wish was hardly close to coming true.

"You sound quite distressed, my Lady. Your tone worries me greatly, may I come in? Perhaps we may talk and discuss what it is that causes you to act so far from your usual self?"

'_He's smart, but this bastard must be psychotic in more than one form if he thinks he can so casually warp my mind with his serpentine words'_, she thought to herself. She took a moment to figure out not only how to get him to leave her be, but how to reply to his slick tongue, too.

Again, she took a quick sip of water, and with a slow but deep breath, she quietly exhaled in attempt to calm her nerves and try to think quickly.

"I appreciate your concern, Lord Counsellor, but I assure you, I'm fine. It has just been a very long and strange day, my Lord. If you will give me a few minutes to dress for dinner, I will see you in the Great Dining Hall". She hoped these words would be enough to fool him into thinking she was fine, and he would leave her be.

In reality and in truth, however, Éowyn wanted nothing more than to tear into him with the most truthful words about him. The pure evil she believed that ran through his veins, the manipulative ways he would go about getting what he wanted to serve no one but only himself and his best interest…but she didn't. She couldn't, as that just was not her. Ever since she was a child, even before her Father died in battle and her Mother died afterwards, they both instilled the best of manners and lady-like qualities in her. She was everything a woman of royalty should be, even at such a young age. She spoke eloquently, she was kind and showed great appreciation and respect to those who were 'underneath' her. Peasants, servants, the poor, and the like. Even after her parents' deaths, she held onto those qualities. For both her Mother and Father also displayed all those same qualities of proper manners, how one of royalty should uphold themselves, but also be kind and show their gratitude for those whom served them. Théoden continued to raise both Éowyn and Éomer with the same, respectful, admirable qualities that both their parents had. For he, Théoden, had these same qualities himself, and was always sure to use them and show his appreciation to those who took care of he, his family, and his kingdom. This one just one of many reasons why the people of Rohan loved and adored their Lady Éowyn so much. She was a gentle, tender, caring, and most importantly, kind soul. She truly cared about the people of Rohan, no matter what their social status was, and she never made any of her people feel as if they were any less better than someone else.

Éowyn awaited Gríma's reply and hoped deeply that he would respect her wishes.

"As you wish, my Lady. But if you would like to discuss what is troubling you, please do not hesitate to approach me and take up my offer. I only want to help you and make you happy again".

And with that, she could hear his footsteps slowly leading away from her bedchamber's door. 'Finally', she thought to herself.

She let out a sigh, and looked at her bed. Oh, how she longed to simply crawl back into it and go back to sleep. She hadn't felt this exhausted in a very long time. However, she knew if she were to lay down, the moment her body hit her bed and her furs, she would fall fast asleep. She took a few sips of water, gave her semi-petite body a stretch, gently splashed her eyes with some water to help wake herself up a bit, and went to get her dress that she had gently laid aside on a chair in her room in which she planned to wear to dinner that night.

It was simple, but still very beautiful. A light shade of lavender with golden stitching, and a variety of different sized circular-shaped yellow gems that decorated the chest and collar-piece of the gown. She was too exhausted to worry about her hair or headpiece. She simply ran her brush through it, followed by her fingers. Once she was dressed and ready to head downstairs for dinner, she looked at herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath, tried her best to look as if she were her usual self and not a thing was wrong in life, and went to open her door.

She jumped and let out a shriek at the sight of a figure with a closed fist being the first thing she saw when she opened the door to her bedchambers. She gasped for air, as she was beyond startled, and rightfully so. She was so startled that she had fallen back and landed on the floor, and didn't even realize it until her hand suddenly went to push her up by reflex.

"My Lady!", not having even seen the figure, she knew by the voice of that who spoke who was at her door. Gríma. She was less than surprised.

"My most sincere apologies! I did not mean to frighten nor startle you; You seemed to take quite a long time and people downstairs were wondering where you were. I offered to come up and check on you. And just as I approached to knock on your door, well…", he smirked.

He knelt down and offered a hand to assist her to get up off the hard wooden floor.

"I am so sorry, please, let me help you up", Gríma said in a concerned tone.

Still quite shaken, Éowyn did what she usually did: she tried her very best to hide it and act as if it was nothing to be worried about.

She looked at him, deep into his eyes. They almost had a look of…purity to them. But how could this be? This was Gríma she was staring at, not a child!

Regardless, she shook the thought out of her head and quickly came back to reality. She let out a slight smile as she looked in his eyes, as did he. It was, after all, a bit of a comedic moment during a dark and difficult time.

"I think I should indeed get up now", she said, and reached for Gríma's hand, which was still outreached for her.

He pulled her up and asked, "Are you sure okay? You didn't hit your head when you fell back, did you? Does anything in particular hurt?"

Though she was quite surprised by the genuine look on his face and these questions, she assured him that she was fine. The most she may have, if anything, would be a slight bruise in the morning, as her hands took most of the impact of her fall.

"May I escort you to dinner, my Lady?", Gríma asked.

"Yes, thank you", she replied. And the two headed down the stairs that lead to the Great Hall.

When they reached the last steps, Éowyn looked over to see if Théoden was on his throne. He wasn't. She simply figured he must be in the Great Dining Hall, along with the rest of the palace folk.

Gríma lead Éowyn into the Great Dining Hall. Everyone greeted her warmly, but tonight's dinner was lacking. In many ways. Théoden wasn't in his seat. Nor was her brother, Éomer. Nor was the King…

After she quickly greeted everyone else with a quick, "Hello" and a smile, she turned to Gríma and quietly asked, "Where's our Lord Théoden? Where is my Uncle?"

Gríma simply explained that he was quite tired and retired to bed early.

Suspicious and worried, Éowyn looked at him and said, "I will be right back…", and she ran towards her Uncle's rooms. She saw that the door to his bedchamber was slightly ajar. This wasn't unusual, as many of his servants and aids would check on him numerous times throughout the nights. Before entering, Éowyn looked around to make sure no one else was coming or already at the King's side. …Particularly Gríma. Once satisfied that she was, indeed, alone, she gently pushed the door to his bedchambers open, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw he was laying in his bed, comfortably covered by his furs. She gently shut the door completely, and softly sat on the edge of her beloved Uncle's bed. She slowly took his hand in hers and held it. She could hear him murmur something, but he was asleep, and she hadn't a clue what he had said. She was just glad that he was as peaceful and as comfortable as he could be, given the state he was in due to Saruman's wizard craft. Éowyn held Théoden's hand in hers, and bent down to give the back of his hand a gentle kiss. She then stood up and bent over his pillows, and placed another kiss on his forehead. She hoped that her brother was right when he departed and told her that deep in Théoden's heart, he still knew who she, Éowyn, was. She leaned up and looked at her Uncle.

"I love you, my Lord", she said in a gentle tone, but there was much love in the tone of which she spoke as well.

She went to exit his bedchambers and felt it was best if she left his door just as she had found it, so she left it slightly open, but not by much. Taking in a breath, she closed her eyes and hoped that no one had followed her upstairs and that she was still alone. She stepped back from the King's door, and slowly, while keeping her back towards the door, turned to make sure she was alone.

To her great relief, she was. With that, she quickly rushed down the hall, down the stairs, and back into the Great Dining Hall.

She saw Gríma look away from one of the guards he had been conversing with and looked at Éowyn. She had a look of content on her face, and Gríma knew why.

"How is our Lord, my Lady?", he asked, with a look of both curiosity and concern.

"He is as doing as well as he can be, I suppose. He's resting. Likely asleep by now. He's comfortable, he looked rather peaceful", she said in a casual tone.

"That is good news, very good news", Gríma said, as he bowed his head lightly in both respect for the King and Lady Éowyn. "You haven't eaten a thing yet, have you? Why, you must be famished!", Gríma said.

"To be honest," Éowyn began, "I'm really not that hungry. A small goblet of wine and some fruits should do me just fine I guess", she said. Although she wasn't exactly too fond of wine, she purposely requested it this evening for one sole reason: It made her tired, and it made her tired rather quickly.

"Let me escort you to the table, my Lady", said Gríma. He pulled out a chair, and she gently sat down.

"Thank you, Counsellor", Éowyn replied.

As soon as she sat down, one of the servants placed a relatively small plate in front of her, but the beautiful and delicately placed arrangement of fruits put the size of the plate to shame. A goblet of wine was also placed on the table aside the small plate. Éowyn looked up at the servant and thanked her graciously. She immediately took what appeared to be a small sip, but what was actually a big gulp of wine. She ignored the various conversations going on around her. Not in an attempt to be rude, she simply had other things on her mind that weren't being discussed. She saw no interest in bringing them up if no one else had already done so, and to what was almost like a relief to her, no one had.

Éowyn picked at her fruits and ate rather slowly. She was thinking about so many things at once. Her parents, her Uncle, her brother, her cousin…Would he make it to the morning? Would her prayers to the heavens be answered? Would Théodred's life be sparred? She clenched her eyes shut at the sudden whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that were quickly piling up, and grabbed her goblet of wine and pulled the same little trick she had before. She took a gulp. And then another. And another. And with a final seemingly small sip, she emptied the goblet. Most of the men at the table would only be half-way through with their wine by now, if even that! She had just hoped that no one had noticed that she didn't take those last few 'sips' in increments, but all at once. While it wasn't exactly ladylike, she knew it would draw attention to her, which is not something she wanted. She took a few more bites of her fruits and gently rested her chin on the back of her hand.

She felt a hand upon her shoulder and quickly looked up in response. It was Gríma.

"Why on earth would you conduct yourself that that?", he asked in an assertive tone.

Éowyn had an aggravated and annoyed look on her face. "What are you even referring to, Gríma?" she said, in an almost bored tone.

"Your drinking like a man is not very ladylike, _**Lady **_Éowyn". You're lucky no one else but myself saw you doing so."

"Of course it would be _**you **_to be the only one who saw. I can't even sit down to a meal without _**you **_watching me like a crow ready to devourer its prey when the eagles have finished their share of it!", she snarled at him angrily.

"You will no conduct yourself this way again, Éowyn. _**Ever**_. Do you understand?", he said in a stern town as he knelt down to eye level with her.

His piercing blue eyes gazed at her with intimidation. Little did her forget, this tactic wouldn't be nearly as effective as it is when one hasn't just downed an entire goblet of strong wine.

"Who on this earth do you think you are?! You are **not **my father. You're **not **my brother. You're **not **my husband. You of all people will certainly not tell me what I can and cannot do in _my _own kingdom, _**Counsellor**_!", she replied in just as stern and heavy of a tone, and mocked his gaze with that of her own, one nearly as powerful and intimidating as his.

"…_**Your husband**_..?", Grima said, with a small smile on his face.

"What an interesting possible reference you have made of me, _my_ Lady Éowyn". He glared at her with a smirk on his face. He wanted to be sure to remind her that she was his prize; The treasure; His beloved. No matter what he had to do to get her, she would, indeed be his treasure, and he would have her within his grasp, sooner than anyone would have imagined. …Even Gríma, himself.

"I've had enough of this wretched day, and mostly I've had enough of you, she said, giving a glare right into Gríma's eyes that would instantly make him feel as horrible as he had made her feel, had she possessed the power to do so. Little did she herself know, Gríma was also hurting inside. In different ways, yes, but still hurting nonetheless.

"I'm going to bed. Do me the honor of **not **offering to lead me to my rooms and by _**not following me**_!" She growled at him through mainly gritted teeth. Éowyn was angry. Very angry. And rightfully so.

_He had pushed her way too far tonight, and he actually felt deep, heavy guilt for doing so. Gríma had to figure out a way to differentiate his remarks at her between those that were caring, and those that Éowyn took as insults and letdowns, and quickly, if he were to have his prize._

She turned and didn't dare look back at Gríma and the few who overheard the conversation. She ran up the stairs, down the corridors to her rooms, and when she reached her bedchamber, she shut the door. She leaned her back on the door and tears began to fill her eyes.

"No", she softly said to herself. "No. These inner demons of loneliness and hatred will not bring me down once again. I will not let them!"

She gently wiped her eyes, and cheeks with a clean cloth, and after a few deep breaths, was able to compose herself enough to finally calm down after her spat with Gríma and was now able to relax. With that done, she changed into her nightgown cracked one of the windows in her bedroom, as she knew the fresh air, while cold, would do her good, and climbed into her bed, and curled up under the warmth of her furs. Within some five minutes of having crawled into bed, Éowyn quickly fell into a deep sleep. Her hopes of the wine making her tired obviously worked, and quite well, at that.

Downstairs, curious palace staff and guards looked at Gríma for answers, and perhaps an explanation.

He simply said, "Lady Éowyn is going through much at this time. She's been taking her anger out on different people. Tonight it was me. If she does it to you, please do not take it to heart. She speaks out of pain and anger towards Théodred and Éomer. Éomer deserted her and Théodred isn't fighting as hard as he can to survive his ambush from the attack. She knows this; She simply doesn't want to accept it and I would suppose she doesn't much understand it, either. In the meantime, just do your daily tasks. Those of you who tend to Lady Éowyn, continue to do what you do daily. She will calm down and be back to her regular self soon. …I promise."

And with that, Gríma ordered everyone get back to work. With a small smile on his face, he realized that he, too, had become very tired from such a long day. After making sure the servants were back to work, he retired to his own rooms.

Gríma walked up the steps from the Great Hall that lead to his rooms. He blew out the candles in the corridors on his way to his rooms, and darkness slowly filled that wing of the castle. When he reached his own rooms, he entered his bedchamber, and instead of changing into his nightclothes and simply going to sleep, he sat on the edge of his bed. He thought about many things. Mainly Éowyn, of course, but also of Saruman, Théodred, Éomer, Théoden…who he used to be before he became Saruman's 'puppet', as some in Rohan referred to him as such. He had grown tired of being in fear of Saruman, but he felt trapped. Saruman was the only one who could provide Éowyn to him. It was as if he had her dangling neatly on a string, hanging her over his head, and no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not reach, nor have her. But he wanted her. Of course he realized that no one always gets what they want in life, but when it came to Éowyn and his love for her, that was a different story. He would not accept that reality when Éowyn was a factor. But after tonight, how would he regain the civility that he had seemed to seal between them? He laid back in his bed, and rested his head in his hands, folded behind his head. He felt horribly guilty for how he had addressed her in the Great Dining Hall. While he didn't think he was out of place expressing his thoughts about her drinking, he certainly could have addressed the matter in a different way. …Along with a different place and different time, and in a different tone.

"_I will learn from tonight_", he told himself.

If he had any hopes of ever having Éowyn in his arms soon, as he had originally thought he would, then even he, Gríma himself, knew that he would have to change his ways. And drastically. But it would be hard. Darkness had ruled him for so much of his life. How would be able to make such a drastic change in such a short period of time?

This, he all pondered silently in his mind, until he too, slowly fell asleep…


	3. The Death

The following morning, Éowyn awoke to the bright sunshine rising just above the mountain peaks across the valley of Rohan. It seems that she had forgotten to shut her drapes after she opened her window last night to allot fresh air in her bedroom to help her relax and take in some of nature's natural gifts so she that she could relax after the previously horrible day and evening. She had slept, to her surprise, surprisingly well. She attributed her deep and uninterrupted sleep to the wine she insisted on drinking last night with dinner. She, however, felt just fine physically the next day. As she lay in her bed and let her eyes adjust to the incoming light and brightness of the rising sun, she stretched and tried to put the events of yesterday behind her, although, it certainly was not an easy thing to do. She slowly sat up and while sitting in the center of her bed, she stretched. She almost felt like a cat doing so after one had awoken from a long, long nap. She felt energized and refreshed. …And then, suddenly, she felt afraid, and very worry.

She immediately ran a brush through her hair and put on of her many day dresses. This one in particular was a somewhat casual dress for one of royalty, but still elegant and beautiful. It was pure white with white lace and cream colored embellishments around the neck and waistline. It was very flattering and fitting to her figure. Éowyn liked it very much and felt beautiful in it, and to her, that was all that mattered.

However, her haste and rush in getting herself ready was not for joyful or gleeful reasons, and she herself displayed as she immediately ran out of her room, without even a thought as to close the door (which was extremely unusual. Éowyn had always been quite private and to leave her room wide open so that anyone could just walk in and observe her quarters…well, it was certainly out of the norm for her).

Éowyn had one place and person in mind: Théodred's rooms, and Théodred, himself. She had prayed countless times to the heavens above to spare him, and as she had gotten closer and close to his room, her heart was pounding and she could barely breathe. It seemed thus far as no one else was up and none of the servants had started their daily tasks yet. The sun was still in the process of rising; It really was quite early, but still, it was the next day. The day Éowyn both hoped for and feared. Théodred's fate would be decided today, if it had not already been decided for him.

Éowyn eventually reached the corridor that lead to Théodred's rooms. Like that of his Father's, the door to his bedchamber was also left slightly ajar so that the King's healer and servants could attend to Théodred. Though, given the severity of his wounds, there was very little anyone could do, and nearly all in Rohan knew this.

Éowyn stood outside Théodred's bedchamber for what seemed like an eternity until she was able to muster up the courage and inner strength to go in, check on her beloved cousin, and hope that by some miracle or grace of the heavens, that he would still be alive.

She ignored the giant tears that swelled up and began to drop from her eyes and down her cheeks. She took many deep breaths to try to keep herself calm. For if Théodred was still alive, she didn't want to give him a look that would dampen his spirits and make him believe that a recovery for him was unlikely or impossible.

Éowyn somehow finally mustered up the courage and slowly walked up to Théodred's bedside. All of her questions were immediately answered when she looked at her cousin.

He was dead. Her cousin, who was more like a brother than a cousin, was dead. The young man whom everyone thought would one day become King of Rohan, following his Father Théodred's footsteps, was dead. He would never see the day where his son would be crowned king. Théodred's life wasn't spared, and therefore he himself would also not see the day or moment when he was crowned and would become the next King of Rohan.

"No…no…no, Théodred, please, please come back…", Éowyn said as she cried on Théodred's bedside, holding his cold, lifeless hand in hers. Her words were muffled with tears but could still be heard if someone was close and listening.

"Please…please, don't leave me here. I don't want to be alone…", she whispered to him, as if he was still alive and able to listen to her plea.

Éowyn stayed alongside Théodred's dead, lifeless body, as if she was trying to savor and remember the last moments she would ever have with her beloved cousin. While Théodred and Éowyn did not have the same parents and while the _**exact same **_blood did not flow though their veins, Théodred loved his little cousin Éowyn so dearly. She too, was more like a sibling, a sister, than a cousin to him. While reminiscing on so many wonderful memories she shared along with he and Éomer, her tears brought attention to Théodred's bedchambers. The Healer of Rohan, and about 5 servants slowly walked in. They knew by Éowyn's tears that their dear Théodred was now gone. Although it was very apparent and obvious to even the foolish of fools, Rohan's Great Healer had a duty to be certain that Théodred was, indeed, no longer alive. He had a duty to declare him, Théodred, son of Théoden, legally dead in the records and books of Rohan. The healer gave Théodred a quick examination. He looked at his eyes, he felt for a pulse in various places: the neck, wrist, abdomen, and the ankles. There was none. Théodred responded to absolutely no sort of stimulation. The Healer had pronounced Théodred, son of Théoden, dead.

The time had passed quite slowly since Éowyn first saw the grim appearance of Théodred's lifeless body. However, well over two hours had passed by the time the Healer of Rohan made his official and final decision regarding Théodred's status.

The servants had almost finished making breakfast.

King Théoden was being assisted to his thrown by his servants, and Gríma followed Théoden closely behind. All of them were unaware of Théodred's death. …Or so it had been believed.

Little did anyone know that, that night, Gríma slowly and quietly crept into Théodred's chambers and saw that he had, indeed died. Gríma noticed this just as the sun was about to rise, and with that knowledge, knowing of Théodred's death before anyone else, he could use it to his advantage. …And he certainly intended to. He had one specific target in mind: Éowyn. She would now be more weak than ever. Finally! Today, his chance would come…

The Healer of Rohan had approached Gríma and asked to speak with him privately. Gríma instantly knew what this conversation would be regarding, but he had to play the fool, to everyone. Gríma was very cunning, slick lipped, and a master of manipulation. Pretending to take Théoden's death as a surprise was not even the slightest challenge for him.

"Lord Counsellor, I have some very bad news to bear today that must be documented. I would have done so myself but alas, you are the only one in Rohan with such authority to do so", said the Healer.

Gríma slowly planted a perfected look of confusion and worry upon his face. "Had one of our own passed? Please, say it is not so. Rohan has already lost so much!", Gríma said in a tone that had concerned swiveled right into it.

"I am afraid so. And it unfortunately one of the royals. King ThÉomer's son, Théodred, has died. As it is my duty to confirm all suspected deaths of Rohan's people, I examined his body, and there was no doubt in my mind. He had died. And I suspect that he had been dead for at least three, possibly four hours before I examined him and was forced to announce my findings. We should only hope that given the time frame, he was asleep when he passed, and did not suffer".

"…Indeed", Gríma agreed. He had his arms crossed but had his chin propped up on the back of his right hand. He placed a look of loss, sorrow, and despair on his face, although it was all a façade.

Gríma turned and before he walked away, he looked over his shoulder towards the Healer of Rohan. "I shall begin my part of this task now. Thank you for completing yours and informing me of Théodred's fate, Healer. Should anyone ask, I will be in the library, working on the records of Rohan and our land's most recent tragedy".

"Yes, Lord Counsellor. I bid you, sir, a good day", said the Healer of Rohan, and he head for the Great Dining Hall. He hoped that some conversation and a warm meal would help ease his mind of the troubling sight and his duty. As the Healer of Rohan, he was used to seeing the bodies of hose who passed on. But Théodred, Prince of Rohan, was different. Everyone loved the King, Théodred, Éomer, and of course, Lady Éowyn. For the Healer was also a Father, but lost his son in battle nearly a decade ago. Knowing his friend and his King, the pain of having to bury one's own child is unlike that of any other. It would destroy him.

Something hit Gríma in the library just moments after he began to go through various books and checked the dates on them -- he had not seen, hear, nor heard any talk of Éowyn all day. Noting the year of the book he held with a pen placed over it, he went to find her. He found her sitting, alone, in one of the many plush chairs throughout the Golden Hall. King Théoden was sitting in his throne, but with his mind overtaken by Saruman, he simply could be of no comfort to her, which further deepened her pain.

A slight frown appeared on Gríma's face. He was now beginning to see Éowyn not as a prize, but as a person, a woman. A woman whom he loved and cared for greatly, but had not received the love or much care back from her in return. Deservedly so, after all, he wasn't always as careful and sensitive around her as he should have been. But he still partly saw her as a prize…his beloved treasure. He stood from the upstairs admiring her beauty and both pitying her for the position she was in and how alone she must be feeling. He sighed, and walked down the stairs, and slowly approached her. She had no longer been weeping, but tears still streamed from her beautiful, bright eyes.

He knelt down beside the chair in which Éowyn sat and, very gently, placed his hand on top of hers. She used her left hand to wipe away a few tears, and looked at Gríma, who was already gazing at her beauty, even though she was in such a sad and listless state. With his right hand, he gently gripped her hand below, and spoke.

"Éowyn, my Lady. I must apologize for how I conducted myself last night. It was wrong of me to try to tell you what to do, and it was wrong of me also to tell you what you would and would not do. You are your own person. You're capable of making your own decisions, and those are for you, Éowyn, to make. Not for me. And I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me in time". She placed her left hand on top of his as if to reassure Gríma that things were fine and there was no need for apologies or for any more discussion of the previous night's quarrels.

"I certainly forgive you, my Lord, and please allow me to apologize for how I reacted. I shouldn't have been so harsh and…un-ladylike. You were only looking out for me, and for that, I thank you", she said in a somber tone.

"My Lady Éowyn, you are the but of the fairest, finest, and most beautiful lady throughout any land that lays upon this green earth", Gríma replied, bowing his head.

"Why thank you, Lord Counsellor", she said as she lightly blushed.

Gríma excused himself. "I'm sorry my Lady, but I must return to my work. I don't know if anyone has announced formally, but breakfast has been served. The spread looks quite wonderful today."

And with that, Gríma returned to the Library. But he didn't immediately return to his work as he had originally planned.

Gríma pondered as debated as to how he should go about dealing with Éowyn now that Théodred had died. Gríma obviously knew Théodred had died, as he was the first to see his dead body before the sun rose and Éowyn then went to him shortly after sunrise. Gríma also knew that of course, after seeing his dead body, Éowyn knew that Théodred was dead, as well.

_However, Éowyn did not know that Gríma knew of Théodred's death_.

While Gríma was in the middle of marking Théodred's death in the official record books of Rohan, Éowyn was in the dark as to what Gríma did or did not know. The same applied for her Uncle, King Théoden. Gríma didn't have time to try to get inside Éowyn's mind and unravel her secrets at the moment, but he was hoping that he would have an opportunity to do so later that day. He didn't want to hurt her, but rather know even more about her. Her beauty captivated him, along with her mystery. He wanted to know everything about his beloved.

After barely touching her breakfast, Éowyn excused herself and went to find the Healer of Rohan. She spotted him just outside of the Great Hall, standing on the tall platform that the stone steps lead up to, overlooking the countryside.

"Master Healer", Éowyn greeted him and bowed her head with great respect.

"Lady Éowyn". The Healer knelt before her and gave her a bow worthy that of a Queen. A faint smile appeared on her face that someone would show her such great respect when was far from becoming a Queen just yet.

"Master Healer, I must ask you something regarding the death of my cousin, Théodred".

"If I happen to know the answer, I will most certainly provide you with it, my Lady", he replied.

"Thank you", she replied. She clenched her lips together with her teeth and closed her eyes for as moment, as her question was very hard for her to even think about, let alone say aloud and ask.

"Did…Did you tell my Uncle…King Théoden, that Théodred has died?", she asked. Her eyes swelled up with tears and they slowly began to stream down her face, one by one.

Rohan's Healer paused for a moment, as his heart ached at the thought of losing his own son so many years ago, and seeing Éowyn in the anguish and pain she was in, standing right in front of him.

"Éowyn, my Lady, I have not. I don't feel it would be right for me, though the kingdom's Healer, to be the one to bear Théoden of his beloved son's death."

Éowyn sighed and simply nodded her head in agreement. She could sense by the tone in his voice he was going to continue speaking, but she already had a feeling in the pit of her stomach and in her heart about what he would say, and how she dreaded having to hear it.

"I am sorry my Lady, but as Sheildmaden of Rohan, is your duty to tell him. It would not be right for one who is not of the line of royal blood to inform him of such grave and drastic news, you must understand that".

Sighing, and with tears once again swelling up in her eyes, she paused for a moment before she could gather herself to speak and reply.

"Yes Master Healer. I do understand, but I do not understand…How shall I do this?" She asked and looked up at him with a look of sheer helplessness on her face.

The Healer, who had known Éowyn since she was a little girl and cared for her deeply, cupped her face gently in his hands. "I know this will be one of the hardest and most painful tasks you've ever been asked to do in your entire life, Éowyn. But if he does not hear this from you, it may destroy him. You are one of the only lights he has left in his life due to the spell cast upon him by Saruman. I know it seems like an impossible task, but this is a duty that has, and can only, fall upon you, our dear Éowyn".


	4. The Lust

That afternoon, after a long and painful discussion with Rohan's much beloved and respected Healer, Éowyn sat at the side of her bed, in her bedchambers. She wasn't crying, she wasn't sobbing. She herself didn't even know what she was she was thinking. She was so overwhelmed, the mere idea of having to sort out her thoughts individually made her sigh and shudder at the thought. She slowly stood up, patted her face dry should any tears have remained on her face, and decided that she had a duty placed upon her, and to put that duty aside any longer would be unfair to the Lord, and perhaps revealing the truth to him would somehow lift a small amount of weight off her own shoulders, which she so desperately needed.

She opened her door, and closed it behind her as she headed down the corridor that lead to the stairs. She walked down them, and in Rohan's Great Hall, there he was. Her beloved Uncle, the King, was there, sitting listlessly upon his throne. She looked at him with the deepest sorrow and sadness in her eyes. She would have given anything to have not have to be the one to bear the news to him that his one and only child was now dead.

Éowyn walked down the final few steps, and slowly approached her Lord. She looked around to assure that there was no one else immediately around, as this was something she felt that was, frankly, only the business of she and the King. Her breathing slowed as she approached her Uncle's throne, and with much hesitation, she finally broke the news she so dreaded to have to share. Éowyn knelt down beside her Uncle, took his hand in hers, and spoke.

"My Lord. …Your son. …He is dead", she said, slowly caressing his hand.

He said nothing. There was no response from him, but she could he was certainly not dead. He was indeed very much alive, but his mind was very severely poisoned by Saruman.

Knowing this, she was still shocked that her Uncle wouldn't omit even the slightest of responses.

"My Lord? Uncle?", she said as the tears that had built up in her eyes burst and slowly drew down her face. She didn't expect him to react this way. To react with no reaction at all baffled her. She made one last attempt to get through to him, and very tightly held his hands in hers.

"Will you not go to him? …Will you do nothing?" she finally asked, as if for some confirmation from him.

All Éowyn received was a look on his face of lifelessness, though he was still alive. Éowyn wondered if her beloved Uncle even understood what she was telling him. Was he able to understand it? Able to comprehend and process it? Or was Saruman overthrowing his ability to feel emotion, too?

Although, sadly, Théoden wasn't able to go see his son, Éowyn took it upon herself to back to him. She was very much alone now. Though her dear cousin Théodred was dead, she was so desperate for some sort of love, some sort of companionship, that she simply knelt at his bedside, he cold, dead hand being held within hers, and she wept. She reminisced about the fun they had while growing up. She remembered the fun they used to have. But most of all, she remembered when she felt safe, and when she didn't feel alone. Now, without her brother or cousin, she was vulnerable, and alone. She feared both of these greatly but tried hard not to show it to those she wouldn't let in, no matter how hard they tried on the outside.

Although it had only been some ten or fifteen minutes that Éowyn had spent beside Théodred in his bedchambers, she suddenly felt the oncoming presence of someone else. Could it be that Théoden had come to his senses and was coming to see his son like she had so desperately asked of him? However, Théoden was very weak. If it was him, she would hear someone assisting him to his son's room. Whomever this person approaching was, they were alone. Perhaps it was the grief that caused her to take so long to realize who it was. And when the identity of the person approaching finally hit her, she simply closed her eyes. She saw a shadow slowly enter through the hallway on the other side of the wall. She looked down, and softly kissed Théodred's hand. She slightly glanced left, then right, and laid her head down upon her Cousin's bed and tried to muffle the sounds of her sobbing. Of all the people to see her at one of the weakest moments of her life, she certainly didn't want the person entering to be one of them.

Gríma slowly appeared from outside the hallway and into the doorframe. He stayed silent for a moment, feeling empathy towards Éowyn, seeing her in such pain and sorrow. Again, Éowyn did not know that Gríma already knew of Théodred's death, so Gríma chose his words carefully, as he slowly entered the room.

"Oh, he…must have died, sometime during the night", he said with a sigh. "What a tragedy for the King to lose his only son and heir"… He sounded sad and surprised at Théoden's sudden death.

Éowyn slowly turned her head or directly looked upwards towards Gríma. Though he was always slick and sharp with his tongue, something about the words he had just spoken sounded so fake, as if he, Gríma, had never even bothered to hold on to any hope that there was a chance that Théodred could have survived.

Gríma was now by Éowyn's side, and he slowly sat down on the edge of Théodred's bed to try and comfort Éowyn. She was weak. She was vulnerable. She was more alone than ever now. If he were to have a chance, this would likely be it.

"I understand, his passing is hard to accept", he told her as he looked down at her with a look of deep concern in his eyes. He slowly placed his left hand on her right shoulder, and continued,

"Especially now, that your brother has deserted you". He looked at her with the same look of concern, but now it was laced with pity, too.

Once again, pushed to far, Éowyn had had it.

She quickly pushed herself up from the bed and stepping backwards, shouted, "Leave me alone, snake!", and glared at Gríma.

She glared at him for a few seconds and a smirk quickly emerged upon Gríma's face.

"But you are alone", he said in a deep, dark tone.

His words hit her harder than a thousand Elfish arrows, aimed all at once, right towards her heart. He saw it. He saw the reality of her word and he knew it, probably better than even Éowyn herself did. Gríma stood up and approached her.

As much as Éowyn wanted to get away from him, if she continued backwards, she would be cornered by him, which isn't exactly the ideal situation anyone would want to be in with Gríma. She was, however, still afraid, and very much so. It was obvious by her deep breaths and how wide her eyes were. She could forget about trying to hide her weaknesses or fears now, as they were all out and on the table of Gríma's wise observations.

He looked at her and with a smirk, continued to reveal his observations about Éowyn to her. "Who knows what you've spoken to the darkness, in bitter watches of the night?"

Éowyn stayed as still as a statue as she took in Gríma's words. He slowly and circled her very closely as he continued. "When all your life seems to shrink. The walls of your bower closing in about you. A hatch to trammel some wild thing".

He stopped speaking for a moment and looked at Éowyn. His eyes, full of both intimidation and desire for her. Hers, full of confusion and loneliness, but mainly confusion. Was he right? Had his observations of her really been this simple? She was complex but he had her boiled down to a simple since in his world. They looked at one another for what seemed like minutes, but was actually only a matter of a few seconds. Gríma spoke once more.

"So fair. So cold", he said softly, as he gently brushed her hair aside from her face with his left hand. He kept his hand on her cheek, and continued once more.

"Like a morning, pale Spring, still clinging to Winter's chill". And with those words, he was silent.

Éowyn shut her eyes gently, so desperate for some form of comfort, someone to reassure her that things would be okay in time. Someone to…be with, for she didn't want to be alone.

Gríma continued to hold his icy gaze upon Éowyn. His hand now slowly traveled down her neck, and he rest it upon her collar bone. Éowyn shivered at his touch. Never had anyone held nor touched her so intimately before. She looked at Gríma, his eyes still fixated on her. She looked down quickly as a single tear fell down her face. With his hand, he slowly brought her chin up, and wiped the tear away.

"I don't…I…I can't…", and without even able to construct nor finish her sentence, Éowyn dropped to the floor and fell down to her knees.

Gríma quickly went down to her aide. "What?" he asked. "What is it?".

Éowyn softly wiped away more tears from her face with the back of her hands. She didn't want to look Gríma in the eyes. But, he softly held her face with both of his hands, and slowly brought her face up to meet his. He spoke once more,

"What is it? I know what it is, Éowyn. But, if you want me to be able to help you, and be able to learn how to deal with your feelings instead of throwing them aside and tying them up in neat little boxes and storing them away in hopes that not opening the boxes will makes things right and your fairytale life will happen someday, you will have to admit it and say it for yourself", he said to her, his words were filled with comfort and compassion. At least, that's how they sounded to her.

She sighed and looked back up into Gríma's eyes, with tears, once again, pooling within hers.

"…I don't want to be alone", she finally admitted to him, followed with a heavy sigh. She said it so softly that if Gríma weren't but less than five paces away from her, no one would have been able to have heard her. But Gríma heard her perfectly clear.

And with those words, she once again hung her head in shame, weakness, sadness, and sorrow. Gríma sighed and felt his own heart begin to ache. He didn't want to see his beloved, dear Éowyn in such a sad, lonesome state. With his right hand he gently placed it under her chin and raised her face to meet his.

"Éowyn…you don't have to be alone. Not everyone in your life will desert you or abandoning you. …I would never leave you, my dear Lady, and that is a promise that I will hold true until the day I die", he said.

He spoke those words hesitantly, but entwined them with a sense of care and confidence. In reality, he spoke them simply with his own worries of the unknown. _Would she ever love __**him**__? Would Éowyn ever come to love __**Gríma**__?_

Gríma gently held Éowyn's face cupped in his hands, and the two stared deeply into each others eyes, trying to read what the other was thinking. Gríma knew exactly what Éowyn was thinking. Éowyn's thought's on what was going on inside Gríma's mind…she had no clue. But their eyes stayed locked on one another like a predator watches its prey, right before launching their attack.

Gríma tried to read Éowyn and what she wanted and desired. She wasn't speaking much, so it was difficult for him to tell what she wanted, if anything at all. He thought if he tried a small test and succeeded at that, then, he would have a pretty good and accurate idea of what she wanted. Not once breaking the embrace of their eyes, he still gently held her beautiful, angelic face in his hands. Éowyn didn't exactly smile, but the edges of her lips curled slightly upward. A small sign of comfort. Then, Gríma tried his test, hoping her reaction would be that of which he was hoping to receive.

Gríma slowly leaned closer to Éowyn, and gently rest is forehead on hers. She displayed a small, very faint smile, and placed her hands upon his. They stayed in this stance of half-embracement for a few moments, until Gríma pulled his head back and removed his hands from her face. Éowyn kept her hands held upon his, and he put one of his on top of hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze, in an effort to show her he cared and she wasn't alone. He, Gríma, was with her. He slowly brought the back her hand to his lips, and gave it a gentle kiss.

Éowyn was quite confused by now. But she pushed the thoughts that made her think aside, and focused on the one thing that mattered to her at this very moment: **not **being alone, and being with someone whom she believed **did care **about her.

Gríma could tell she was confused, and understandably so. The two of them were still sitting on the ground in Théodred's bedchambers. In an effort to turn, at least some, of Éowyn's confusion into comfort, Gríma inched himself away by about a foot, and took Éowyn's hand in his, once again. "I promise. I would never leave you, my dear", he said as he looked her straight in the eyes with the most sincere, genuine look on his face.

Gríma gently pulled Éowyn over to him, and she moved towards him without any hesitation at all. She gazed into his eyes, and he put a hand around her waist. While she kept her head up, her eyes dashed down for just a moment, but quickly returned upwards to meet Gríma's once again. He slowly turned her around, just slightly, and slowly pulled her backwards, onto his chest. She didn't object to this at all, and with that, Gríma ever so gently wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back and took great comfort in knowing that she was no longer alone. Maybe it was a good thing that Gríma had watched and studied her for so long. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to be here for her right at this very moment. And while his words earlier may have sounded a bit harsh, they were all full of the same thing: the truth, which is what Éowyn needed to hear. Perhaps having someone else put it to her so harshly and bluntly was what she needed. After all, she had grown very tired of having to constantly lie, put on fake smiles and fake laughs, and pretend to be the exact opposites of what she was not: happy and fearless. For, until now, she was far from happy. She was miserable, feeling like a prisoner in her own Kingdom. And now that an outsider, particularly Gríma, knew that she had much fear locked up inside, and that too, was now out in the open…It was a relief, if anything.

Gríma himself said but not one night before, "If you would like to talk…please do not hesitate to approach me and take up my offer. I only want to help you and make you happy again".

Back in Théodred's room, Éowyn still lay back upon Gríma's chest. His arms, encircled around her tiny waist. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her. They both let a smile appear on their faces. Éowyn laid her head on Gríma's chest, facing towards him, and said, "Thank you, Lord Counsellor".

"For what may I ask, my Lady?" he asked with a puzzled tone in his voice.

"For not leaving me. For not letting me be or feel alone anymore. For saying the things that I needed to hear for years but did not want to hear", she replied.

"I am sorry that I had to say them so harshly and…without any sense of compassion. I was wrong", he said in a regretful voice.

"No, you weren't wrong at all. I needed someone to tell me that for such a long time. Yes, people always tried to say it to me, but it was always covered in sweetness and lies. I could see right though it and it certainly wasn't genuine. It only made be believe that they were saying these things to me because they felt obligated to, not because they wanted to or because that's how the truly felt in their hearts", she said.

"Well, for once you're the one who's left me a bit confused", he said, and they both let out a small laugh.

"I think it's been a very confusing time for all of us", she said as she looked at Gríma.

"The best cure for confusion is a bit of fun and relaxation", Gríma replied.

Éowyn looked up at the bed upon which laid Théodred. "Well, there's not much fun that will happening in here. My cousin…he's gone. How I miss the times we used to share together. The fun we had when we were just children".

Gríma nodded his head in agreement. He then stood up, extending a hand to Éowyn, and helped her up back on her feet.

"I can see there is still much on your mind my dear. Are you willing to talk about the rest of what troubles you yet?", asked Gríma.

Éowyn shut her eyes at the pain that talking would bring to her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not ready. Not yet, at least. But when I am, I will come to you. I have faith that you will not only listen closely but be able to be of help, too", she replied.

"Understandable, my Lady", Gríma said.

"It will be at least another two hours or so before the servants and cooks call for the next meal of the day, and I must return to the Library and get to work", Gríma slowly said, hoping that Éowyn would ask him not to go, but to stay, something of that matter. He wanted to be with her but she had to be the one to ask him to be with her. Luck was with Gríma at that moment.

Glancing around the room, she quickly asked Gríma, "…Must you go now? We certainly shouldn't stay here but there's plenty of places we could go and enjoy one another's company. Our rooms would be fit, I suppose", she said, with a tiny smirk on her face and a glimmer of hope in her eye that Gríma would change his mind and say yes to Éowyn's request.

Standing there, so beautiful, so innocent, so pure. How could anyone, let alone Gríma, say no to her?

"Well, I suppose I could put my work on hold. It's only minor business anyway, nothing that can't wait a few more hours or even another day, if need be", he said with a small smirk on his face.

Éowyn looked at Gríma and smiled. He returned the gesture, and the two quickly walked up the stairs that lead down to the Great Hall.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Gríma asked, "To where should we go, my Lady"? She thought for a moment and a tiny smile with a hint of what one would almost mistake for evil appeared on her face.

"Well, Lord Counsellor. You've seen my rooms and my bedchambers, but I don't believe I've ever had the chance to see yours before…You can't blame a young lady for being the slightest bit curious, can you?", she said with that same semi-devious look on her face.

_Was this the same Éowyn I knew yesterday? Gríma thought to himself. This is almost becoming a game to her; One which she seems to be enjoying. _This, was certainly not disappointing to Gríma in the least.

He smiled and said, "Well, you'd be correct. If you must see, then I will happily escort you to my rooms so you may have a look around. After all, it's only fair".

"Which way is it to your rooms, Lord Counsellor?", Éowyn asked.

Gríma took her by the hands. "Come, I'll show you".

He lead her down a semi-long, winding corridor, and then stopped. He opened the door, and said, "Welcome, to my spaces, my dear". Éowyn entered behind Grima, and as soon as the two were inside Gríma's rooms, the door closed shut.


	5. The Trust

As Éowyn entered Gríma's rooms, she was quite surprised at what she saw. Though she didn't know what to expect except perhaps dark color schemes throughout his spaces, she was actually finding herself quite impressed. His bed looked as rich and royal as the Kings and her own. He had many books, all neatly organized. A desk which was nearly spotless with the exception of a large pad of parchment and a feather pen. His rooms had many windows, most of which were covered with a deep chocolate shade of rich, dark brown curtains.

"Well, Lord Counsellor, I must say, I'm both a bit surprised and also impressed", she said as she looked at Gríma.

Éowyn looked at his bed, as if she were about to sit on the edge. "Do you mind?", she asked before doing so.

Being quite the private one herself, she didn't want to intrude too much or make herself at home too quickly in Gríma's quarters.

"Not at all my Lady, please, do make yourself comfortable". He said with a smirk on his face.

A few seconds passed as they both stared deeply at one another, and the both broke out into a light laughter. They'd spent much time together in the past few days and had built up a completely different type of relationship during the time. Éowyn's hatred for Gríma was far, far back in her head. It was as if she _never _felt any ill feelings towards the Lord Counsellor at all. Gríma was _truly enjoying the company_ of Éowyn. The fact the he knew she sought solace and comfort in him was unexpected, but very much welcomed and brought on feelings inside him that he hadn't felt in years. He genuinely cared about her and loved her. This, he already knew, _but to the deep extent to which that love ran, he was still discovering for himself_. All he was hoping for, is that they would continue to spend more and more time together in the upcoming days, weeks, months…and she would in time, come to love him, too.

Éowyn gently but swiftly threw herself back on the Lord Counsellor's bed. She giggled at the fact that when she was away from the guards and court, she was allowed to have fun and be a free-spirit for a change. It was _insanely _refreshing for her, and much needed.

The sight of Éowyn in a state of such bliss on his own bed sent _shockwaves of pure lust throughout Gríma's veins_. He could easily manipulate her somehow here and now, but he'd changed quickly in the span of just a day or so. He could no longer use manipulation as tactic to get Éowyn's approval, affections, and love for him. He would just have to learn how to be his true self, break the ties and now be unfaithful to Saruman and his wicked commands, and do what he, Gríma, felt was right. He simply cared about her too much to purposely cause her any more pain. Gríma finally realized this when Éowyn had opened up to him when Théodred had died, and revealed her innermost secret to Gríma: her fear of being alone.

Gríma stood looking at Éowyn and the smile on her beautiful, flawless face. He grinned, and went to sit beside her.

"You seem quite happy today, given the events that have recently occurred", Gríma said.

She let out a sigh of relief and sat up. "I'm tired of having to hide how I feel. I'm tired of having to pretend to be someone I'm not…completely. It's nice to be able to just be myself, without my brother constantly watching me and being so overly protective. I know he has my best interest at heart…as did Théodred, always, and my Uncle, but none of them will ever truly understand me or let me be who I want to be. Did you know I've always wanted to ride in battle? With the men? To defend my Kingdom, to fight the Uruks?", she said in an informative tone.

A look of shock appeared on Gríma's face.

"I…I had no idea, my Lady. It's been rumored that you're quite skilled with a blade, but I never knew your desire to use it in battle was so strong. How long have you felt like this, desired to be a warrior?", asked Gríma.

Éowyn looked at Gríma, let out a sigh, and replied, "…Ever since I was told I _**couldn't be one**_. Ever since I was told _**I couldn't fight**_. Ever since I was told, '_**No**_!', and that I'd never be in battle or open war, as it's not the place for women, especially women of royal blood. _Being told no…that only made my desire to do so even stronger, and made me want it more_. It's interesting how when we suddenly realize, or we're told that we can't have something we so deeply want or desire, how or desire for it only grows stronger".

"I can certainly relate to that feeling, to an extent. And you're right. No one wants to be denied what they desire in life. No matter how minor or big it may be. Be it fighting in war, be it to be loved, be it to have peace…" Gríma's reply was somber, but genuine.

"I guess we're not so different after all", Éowyn said with a smile on her face, looking into Gríma's eyes.

He looked back at her, admiring her beauty, a smirk on his face, and replied, "I guess not".

He glanced down and saw Éowyn had her right hand resting on the bed. With his left, Gríma slowly picked her hand up, and held it in his. She looked at him and smiled, placing her left hand upon his, and slowly rested her head upon his shoulder. She never imagined that she'd find safety, comfort, solitude in Gríma, but she had. Never did she believe she'd be capable of having any sort of positive or care-like feelings for Gríma, but she was feeling overwhelmed with them. Perhaps it was because he didn't treat her like a child like her Brother, late Cousin, and Uncle often did, but like the young woman she was. She never once had to give Gríma the constant reminder that she had to her family -- that was not a little girl anymore, but a young woman.

_It was exquisitely refreshing to finally be recognized for what and who she was, instead of what and who she was not._

Suddenly, there was a _**knock at the door**_, which startled both Gríma and Éowyn. They both looked at one another, eyes wide open and worried about not only who was on the other side of the door, but what they wanted. In reality, it was completely inappropriate and unacceptable for the Sheildmaden of Rohan to be in the same room, let alone on the same bed, as the King's Lord Counsellor. They had to think, and quickly. Gríma immediately looked to Éowyn and put a single finger to his lips to signal her to hush and not make a sound. She grit her teeth as nerves ran through her body. …And not in a good way!

"Yes?", Gríma replied.

The voice on the other side of the door was that of simply a female servant, to the relief of both he and Éowyn.

"My Lord, I've been sent to inform you that dinner is being served", the servant said.

"I shall be down in a few moments as soon as I finish my work", he replied. His eyes were still wide with worry. He feared the servant would ask or make mention of Éowyn. This would catch him completely off guard and even with a tongue as slick as his, even Gríma didn't think he was sly enough to come up with an excuse on the spot if he had needed one.

"Yes, my Lord", the servant replied, and he listened closely for the footsteps to slowly trace away.

Gríma leaned against the back of the door as a sigh of relief escaped him, but he quickly returned into his inner mode of worrying as Éowyn rushed towards him and said, "What if she's headed to my rooms next?! Or what if she already has?!"

Éowyn's look of fear and worry was quickly calmed by the calmness she noticed that suddenly appeared on Gríma's. "Either way, I have an idea that will surely save us both, but we must be quick! Stand behind the door while I open it to make sure no one is in the halls".

Éowyn darted behind Gríma's main door and he checked for anyone who may be in the corridor. To his relief, no one was there, and not a footstep was heard. He grabbed Éowyn by the hand and whispered, "Hurry, this way!".

He lead her even further down the corridor, past his room, and to a door. _Éowyn knew she'd seen this door and had been here before, but she couldn't remember when or what the mysterious door lead to_. Gríma checked to corridor one last time to make sure they were alone, and he pushed the door open, leading Éowyn up a flight of stone stairs as he followed. Éowyn could feel herself growing a bit cold, and as she continued up the stone stairway, before she knew it, they were atop of one of Rohan's spacious balconies. _This is why she remembered the corridor and the door_. She had spent many days up in this very same spot as a child overlooking what was once the peaceful land of Rohan.

Éowyn let out both a _huge sigh of relief _at the fact that weren't caught, and a laugh as well. "I believe I misjudged just how clever you were", she said with a _flirtatious _smirk on her face. He smiled and gently stroked her cheek.

Gríma took a moment to think how they would both go down to Great Dining Hall but not arrive at the same time. _He felt foolish when he realized the answer was rather obvious_. He placed both of his hands on Éowyn's shoulders. "I'll stay here. You go down to the Great Hall and head for dinner. I'll stay here for a few moments so we have enough time to assure that we are not seen anywhere near one another on our way to dinner. Now you must hurry my dear or our plan may not work!", Gríma quickly yet gently lead Éowyn back down the steps, and stayed on the balcony for the allotted time.

His plan worked perfectly. By the time Gríma arrived in the Great Dining Hall, he saw Éowyn was already seated and, to his surprise, even found time to rush back to her rooms and somehow quickly changed into a different gown for dinner. He was quite impressed, as she was suddenly acting quite sad and heartbroken over the loss of Théodred, though Gríma knew she was putting on a façade. Éowyn confirmed this herself when he sat down next to her and she gave him a quick glance with a smirk on her face. If he had blinked, he would have missed it. Gríma was certainly not the only extraordinarily clever one of the two.

A servant brought Éowyn a goblet of wine, as well as one for the Lord Counsellor. Mocking the previous nights' issue over the wine, Gríma gave a stern look at Éowyn, to which they both had to find a way to somehow hide the laughter that was building up inside them. _They both covered their mouths momentarily to hide the smirks and smiles they knew would be obvious to others at the table, if left uncovered_. It took a moment, but they quickly returned to the somber and seemingly saddened state that the rest of the table was in. As a very important guest and regular was missing, and would never be joining them again…

This reality suddenly hit Éowyn _hard_. She felt she had a duty to honor Théodred, even in death, and even if was with a seemingly simple gesture. She slowly stood up and picked up the goblet that was next to her plate. "If I may, I would like to take tonight, and honor and remember my dear Cousin, our Prince, our friend and loyal Rohan fighter. To Théodred", she said as she raised her goblet and took a sip.

Everyone respectfully joined her. The rest of the evenings conversations were of irrelevance and boredom to her. The reality that Théodred was gone had set in, and she had no choice but to accept it. Though a moment of sadness overtook her when she thought of being alone, a quick glance at Gríma reminded her that now, she wasn't. He himself promised her that he would never leave her. She could almost hear him saying it to her once again in her mind, and the sadness that overtook her eyes suddenly turned into hope and happiness again. While she and Gríma had never made any sort of pact or deal before, she had faith that he meant what he said and that his words were true. Perhaps he was just watching over her before Éomer had been banned from Rohan to ensure she wouldn't be alone, should she end up in a situation like the one she currently found herself in. Maybe her brother was just being a typical, overprotective brother. Though she missed Éomer greatly, _she couldn't lie to herself_. Having a new sort of freedom about her was quite refreshing. Others in the palace probably thought Éowyn was now more vulnerable and more alone than ever, and at first, that was the case, and how she very much did feel. But things changed when she let Gríma in and opened up to him. _**How could letting down one wall open up so much**_? What else was she holding back that she wasn't even aware of? All of these questions, and barely any answers. It seemed like she had been thinking about these various scenarios and pondering over them for hours. Éowyn might has well have. By the time she had stopped daydreaming she realized that she hadn't touched her dinner, and she was growing very weary and tired. She thought she handled the stress of the day better than anyone, herself included, would have expected. While that was true, it still seemed to take a physical toll on her.

She excused herself from the table, thanked the servants for the lovely dinner and assistance, and walked into the Great Hall to see if her Uncle was at his throne. She wanted to say goodnight to him before heading up to her own rooms to get some rest. Théoden wasn't there, so Éowyn quickly ran up the stairs and to his rooms to make sure he was okay and resting comfortably. Indeed, he was. She closed his door but again, made sure to leave it slightly ajar, and decided to head back downstairs to bid everyone a goodnight. Halfway down the steps, she almost ran straight into Grima, as she was looking downward to make sure she wouldn't trip. While Éowyn was startled and felt a bit foolish, Gríma had that smirk on his face that made her smile. He loved and adored everything about Éowyn, even her faults and mishaps, for she always had her charm regardless of what the situation was.

"My Lord! I'm so sorry", she said as she tried to catch her breath.

"No worries at all my Lady. Heading back downstairs I see?"

Éowyn almost forgot where she was going. "Oh, I, uh…was just going to bid everyone a goodnight", she said casually.

Gríma nodded. "Well, just about everyone with the exception of the servants has retired by now. I suggest you and I shall do the same. It's getting quite late and it's been a rather long day", he said.

"May I escort you to your rooms?", Gríma asked and held out a hand.

Éowyn smiled. "Why yes, thank you".

The two headed back up the stone steps and away from the Great Hall, and then down the wing of the castle to where Éowyn's rooms were.

"Thank you", she said as they approached the door to her bedchambers.

"For what, my Lady?", Gríma wasn't exactly sure what he had done that deserved her thanks.

Éowyn stopped and looked up at him, her eyes filled with _genuine gratitude and thanks_. "Thank you for not making me feel alone. Thank you for reminding me that I'm not alone in this world".

"I know others may doubt my integrity, but I hope you don't when I promise you that as long as you're willing to open and honest at your own will, _**I will never leave you alone**_. And that is a promise that I will take to the grave, my dear". He gently held her hands in his as he replied and spoke those promising words to her.

She smiled and, without thought, gave the Lord Counsellor a _**quick kiss on the cheek**_.

"Goodnight my Lord. Sleep well", and Éowyn entered her room.

"It will be the _best night's sleep of my life_, my Lady. Thank you", Gríma replied.

_He was shocked that Éowyn was unfolding right before him and entrusting him with nearly everything so quickly. Of course, Gríma had absolutely zero objections to this. If tonight ended with her giving him a kiss, he could only imagine the what would soon come next…_


End file.
